


Bad end, Good end

by sarakirai (platehate)



Series: One-shots for one-shots [2]
Category: Bitter Trap (Takagi Shigeyoshi)
Genre: ??????, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Second Chances, okay since when did this get so many hits HUH
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-05
Updated: 2014-10-05
Packaged: 2018-02-19 23:54:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2407544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/platehate/pseuds/sarakirai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Unlike in otome game routes, life has no set path to a relationship.<br/>Yoshito and Nanao got a bad end once, but they can make it a good one if they try, and keep trying. Of course, they're helped along by an incredibly contrived chance (spot the paradox anybody) encounter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bad end, Good end

**xxx**

 

Yoshito doesn’t trust people. He can’t. All of them are greedy, rapacious creatures who are out to get him (and his family’s assets), and he isn’t ever going to forget that. Being on guard is always important, and the fastest way to get rid of people who come up and bother him is to fix them with a withering stare and tell them to get straight to the point: how much money do they want? They’ll get any amount they ask if they never go near him again.

Going through the motions like that hardens his heart, so one day in school when a female classmate calls out to him with this slightly abashed expression on her face, he responds automatically. “What? You want money?”

It is unexpected when her face crumples briefly, as if he really had physically wounded her, before the girl steps away. Retracts the hand she had been holding out (ostensibly to shake his hand, not ask for a handout). She nods minutely and moves off, exuding remarkable composure and a new coldness in her demeanour. He watches in silence as she proceeds to bid farewell to other classmates, and silently resolves not to look at her anymore. _This must be guilt_ , he thinks, closing his eyes to try and forget her – but the image of her determinedly cheerful face after his snub has already burned into the backs of his eyelids. Yet, if she didn’t want money -- _what then?_ Yoshito wishes he knew; wishes he knew what he could have given to this girl whose name he does not know but whose face he will definitely remember.

Nanao is spitting mad about being insulted so by the Takatsuki brat, but she reins herself in admirably. Well, she supposes, this isn’t the first time someone has been jarringly rude to her, and it certainly won’t be the last. What more can she expect, really, as a dirt-poor girl? She plasters a pleasant smile on her face for the rest of the world to see, and puts Takatsuki Yoshito out of her mind, condemns him to being a forgettable face.

 

**xxx**

 

Three years pass, and she’s now in a respectable enough college, pursuing business studies in preparation for her eventual entry into the workforce. She’ll need to find a way to pay off the debt her family’s company is still mired in – it’ll be hard, certainly, but it’s doable. She’ll make it happen. Those are the thoughts that run through her mind every day, even as she walks briskly now to her part-time job at a friend’s coffee place. It’s a red brick front store, crammed in between the off-licence and a bookstore, right in front of a road crossing. Nanao can stare out of the glass panes when there are no customers to serve, idly watching the vehicles that stop, pause, and go with the changing of the lights, thoughts abstracting and unfolding into far-off memories.

One day a car pulls up at the crossing, in front of the red light, and her eyes immediately latch onto it. It is sleek and black and just reeks of subtle wealth. She’s just imagining running her fingertips over plush leather seats, when the rear window closest to her is rolled down, and a vaguely familiar head of blonde hair comes into view; fine, thin strands that frame porcelain features. Then the boy – no, man – turns to face her, and they stare and stare and stare. Nanao can feel the tension in the air thicken, and she’s sure he can feel it too, though she can’t for the life of her fathom _why_. The not-quite-stranger seems to have a clue, huh, judging from the way he’s rearranged his features in the past five seconds (at least, from what she can see through the groups of people streaming past. He looks tired, then confused, then guilty mixed with horror at some dawning recognition. Nanao quirks a brow and tilts her head to the side; he flushes. Then it hits her. Takatsuki. Yoshito.

Her eyes narrow and his widen as the light changes; the car moves off. Nanao’s last glimpse is of Yoshito’s face, panicked and pale, leaning out as far as he can out of the car window at her until she’s completely out of his sight.

She shrugs and turns back to her work.

 

**xxx**

 

It is unexpected when he turns up later at night, breathless and flushed and looking extremely relieved that he managed to catch her just as her shift was ending. She purses her lips in irritation – what the hell is he hoping for? She doesn’t want a reunion of any sort, doesn’t need any reconciliation, because she’s been doing just fine without him, thank you very much. Nanao looks him over properly – perfectly stylish and put together, the man in front of her is a bundle of well-dressed nerves. He can’t stop fidgeting, so she decides to put him out of his misery and ask him _what the hell he thinks he’s doing here._ His only answer is incoherent gaping, so she rolls her eyes and takes the lead.

_“Maybe we could start by intro – I mean, reintroducing ourselves. That is, since you seem to want to talk, although you can’t say anything.”_

_“Uh-uh, hai. Takatsuki Yoshito.”_

_“Machimura Nanao.”_

The syllables of her name wash over him like waves breaking. It’s a huge relief to finally be able to put a name to the face that has haunted him so. He awkwardly sticks his hand out, which prompts her to raise her brows and smirk as she slowly takes it, grip firm. Yoshito smiles shakily. _“Machimura-san,” he begins with an effort, “I must ask. What – what did you want? That time, um, I mean, you didn’t look like you wanted money after all, so…um.”_ He trails off under her baleful glare, but now that he’s finally found her (even though asking someone else to track her down would have been easier) by himself, he’s not letting go.

 _I’m being sincere_ ; he wants to whisper to her. _I really couldn’t figure out what it was you wanted me to give you, if it wasn’t money._

Her free hand (the other one still caught in his grasp) moves up to grip his chin, angle his eyes into meeting her hard stare and Yoshito flinches at the realisation that he did indeed speak aloud. His eyes drop to Machimura’s lips as they part reluctantly.

_“I only…wanted to you to say some empty, nice words, like, ‘take care’.” Her fingers are still gripping his chin, but her eyes are pointed somewhere over his shoulder. “And you,” her voice is brittle, Yoshito notes, “Takatsuki-kun, what do you want? What is it you think I can give you?”_

He reacts without thinking, clapping both hands onto Machimura’s shoulders and shaking her lightly until she looks him in the eye. He’s sure he looks so earnestly pitiful in that moment that she’ll forgive him for what he does next – burrow his head into the curve of her neck. _“What I want, and what you can give me, Nanao,”_ he inhales deeply (heck, they both inhale deeply), _“is a second chance.”_

She fists a hand through his fine hair, tightening her grip painfully as she leans down a little to smell it. _“I suppose I could give you that, Yoshito,”_ she whispers, voice muffled in his scalp, even as something else hangs unsaid in the air. He takes it as his cue to respond.

 _“I trust you,”_ he says with conviction (and god, she knows how much that must mean), _“so you can trust me, too.”_

It’s a promise.   

 

 **xxx**                                  

**Author's Note:**

> I guess it's understandable that few people would even consider writing fics for a one shot, because there is so little to work with, but one can always hope.  
> do share if any of you have written/drawn Bitter Trap related stuff, i'd love to look at it.
> 
> xo


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